A Lover's Painful Past
by KlainersandBlainers
Summary: Moriarty has found the perfect way to get to Sherlock. Warnings: Violence, Homophobic Laungage, Swearing and Mentions of Rape and Abuse. Johnlock. John!whump
1. Chapter 1

**WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, HOMOPHOBIC LANGUAGE, SWEARING, AND MENTIONS OF RAPE AND ABUSE. SLASH, JOHNLOCK**

Sherlock struggled as he slowly opened his eyes, blurry scenery the first thing that greeted him when he woke. He groaned and lifted his hand to rub on the spot on the back of his head where it was throbbing, but found that he couldn't move his arms up, or at all. He looked down, and now that his vision had cleared up, noticed that his arms had been restrained behind him to the back of the chair he was currently slumped forward on. "Finally awake, I see." A voice broke through Sherlock's foggy mind, and it caused him to raise his head and squint his eyes to see who was standing in the dark in front of him.

He winced when a light was flicked on, now his eyes had to adjust to the sudden burst of light. But now that he could see, he growled softly at the man who was currently in front of him with his arms crossed against his chest. "Hello, Mr Holmes." Sherlock scoffed at the friendly meeting, he doubted that he was going to have everything but a good time if the world's only consulting criminal was standing in front of him with a smirk on his face.

"Oh hello there. Mr Moriarty." Sherlock replied, voice dripping with sarcasm and annoyance and that caused the other male to smile and chuckle softly to himself and he slightly moved a bit to the side and began to walked around Sherlock in a circle. "You're a genius." Moriarty began and Sherlock looked around him, and in his mind began to think of a way he could get away from this situation before things got too bad.

"Can you name one person missing from this picture?"

Sherlock widened his eyes, as the first person who also met Moriarty with him popped into his head, and he knew that he wouldn't be on his own from here on out. _John. _Moriarty smirked and he knew that Sherlock had already figured out who was missing from the room. "Johnny Boy." The criminal said the name in sing song, and the clicked his fingers.

The only door to the room unlocked and two men dragging someone in between them entered the room. Sherlock held his gasp as he took in the state that his best friend, and boyfriend, was in, covered in bruises and unconscious. The two men plunked John in the chair and tied him in the same way the taller male was restrained in, and they didn't do it gently either. "What did you do to him?" The curly black haired man questioned, and attempted to try and get out of his ropes: already knowing that it was no use, they seemed to be unbreakable.

"Oh you know, Mr Watson should watch his mouth around Sebastian." Moriarty shrugged it off like it was no big deal, and moved away from Sherlock to kneel in front of the injured ex-soldier, who was slumped forward, chin meeting chest. Moriarty tapped the side of his face, and then lifted up his head by his head, smirking as John whined and slowly got pulled back into consciousness. "Wakey, wakey, Mr John Watson." John's eyes fluttered a few times before finally opening, and landing straight on the man kneeling in front of him.

"'Ello!" Moriarty said with a big grin, and John felt urge to roll his eyes but decided against it in the end. "Why are we here, _Jim?_" Sherlock said, knowing how much Moriarty hated to be called Jim by Sherlock or John. So why not have fun out of this situation and annoy Moriarty, since no matter what he did something bad was going to happen anyway. "Well, Sherlock…" Moriarty smiled as he began to speak once again, and that was when he looked over at John, who was looking quiet pale to the consulting detective.

Both men knew that whatever the criminal had planned was going to be far from good, and they hoped that neither of them would get hurt from whatever he was planning. But since it was Moriarty, both males knew that being safe wasn't even an option around the one and only Jim Moriarty. The criminal clapped his hands together and stood in between both men, looking from one to the other every few moments, making sure that he had both their attention from what he was about to say.

"I wanna play a game, boys." He said, and for a second Sherlock and John met eyes, worry and confusion clear in both of them. When Moriarty wanted to play a game, both of them knew that it wasn't going to be a good thing. "Johnny Boy!" The man in the suit said loudly and turned his body so his back was to Sherlock and facing John, who was now looking up at him with a hard look in his eyes.

"Remember Austin Cooper?" John's eyes widened and he stared into the eyes of his boyfriend's enemy. How the hell did Moriarty know about anyone was deep in John's past. "I found him the other day…" The male began, moving so he was going around in circles around John's chair, hand trailing across the back. "And boy, is he not happy with you!" To Sherlock, Moriarty sounded a little too happy and a little on the side of how a kid would sound, was a human life really this much of a game to him?

"I-I don't know who you're talking about."

There was laughter from behind John, where the door had been opened up and now stood a figure leaning on the frame. Arms crossed in front of his strong looking chest and eyes hardened with anger and something close to evilness if you were to ask John. "I-I…" John honestly didn't know what he could say, he never knew that this could have happened. Austin was supposed to be gone and out of his life. "Been a long time, hey, Watson?" Sherlock was confused, and for once couldn't figure out who the man at the door was.

_Liar.  
Abusive.  
Smoker.  
Drug addict.  
Just got out of jail a few months ago.  
Single.  
Gay.  
Dominant.  
Owns two dogs.  
Cruel._

That was when Sherlock had finally added two and two together to figure out who this stranger, who was currently moving closer to John, was. "Well, I bet you can guess how angry I am that you left without a warning!" The man, Austin, yelled and drew back his fist before punching John across the face, causing the male's head to snap to the side. John let out a grunt of pain, and he heard Sherlock yell out some type of insult that would offend anyone who didn't care. "And this must be Sherlock, your new boyfriend." Austin sneered, and John saw how Moriarty watched with a smirk on his face.

The male was enjoying this too much for his own good. Oh Sherlock was going to kill him whenever he got the chance to. "Let me guess…" Austin whispered and looked at Sherlock up and down before turning his attention back to Austin, who Sherlock had already figured out was John's ex-boyfriend who he left in a hurry to protect himself.

"You only kept him cause he was a good fuck?" Sherlock frowned. "That's why I kept him." John looked at the ground, embarrassed and ashamed about what Austin was saying to Sherlock. That's all he was good for, right? Someone's play-thing? That's all anyone seemed to want him for, to use and than leave whenever I wished.

"No." Sherlock said, and that caused John to quickly look up, a few tears in both eyes, but he knew he could hold them back. He was a soldier after all, he wouldn't cry, he had been trained better. "He is more than 'a good fuck', as you so _kindly_ put it." John smirked as Sherlock rolled his eyes as the slightly shorter male. "He's more of a person than you'll be." Sherlock mumbled, not missing the tiny flare of anger that rose up in Austin's eyes. "What man lets another person… control him however they wish?" John blinked to keep those tears back, but all the memories were just beginning to hit him now and he had fought for years to keep these memories and fears away. Why did they all have to come out now?

**Twenty eight year old John Watson, cried out as he was pushed to the ground, his head hitting the ground first, slamming hard. He looked up through dazed eyes as Austin leaned over, something of an evil smile on his face as a plan formed into his head. "Ready to have fun, ****_babe?_****" Austin smirked, loving how controlling he could be over one person, oh this was just so much fun he wondered why never ever used someone like John before. **

**John whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut as hard hands made their way around his body, feeling him in places that made him squirm and feel uncomfortable.**

John shook his head his head as if it would get rid of the memories, and his mind snapped back to reality when he heard Sherlock growl something to Austin, who looked a little worked up. "John Watson is not a play-thing to go from person to person!" John was finding his tears getting slightly harder to hold, so he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Did he ever tell you about his past with Austin?" Moriarty questioned, and all three men looked at the man leaning against the wall. Sherlock slowly shook his head. "So you never once wondered what his nightmares were about?" The man said again, and Sherlock lowered his head and then looked up at John, who was doing a good job at keeping his tears at bay. "He didn't have to know." John said, finally speaking once again, and he voice wasn't as strong as he liked it to be. He sounded as weak as he felt. "So he didn't need to know that I was the reason that you never seem to cry? Even when someone you love is gone?" Sherlock had noticed that, that was a thing with John. He learned that no matter what happened, John was never going to cry in front of someone.

"I made sure that the cry-baby I met would finally shut up." Sherlock growled, he was now beyond angry. John was a human being, and for someone to change his emotion was just foul and cruel. "But it seems that being gone from me for a long time and caused him to forget." Austin said as he kneeled slightly in front of John, and saw the tears in his eyes. Austin sneered and once again punched John in the face, tears falling from his eyes by accident.

"Hey!" Sherlock yelled, nothing intelligent coming to his mind for once to stop this man from hurting his lover. "Moriarty! Why are you even doing this?" The man that Sherlock was addressing simply smiled. "I was thinking…" He began. "Hurt you would be fun, but there was only one way to really do that." Sherlock was confused, if he wanted to hurt Sherlock than why put John through all this, what was the poi- oh. "Was to hurt John." Sherlock and Moriarty said at the same time, and this caused Sherlock to yell out a tiny grunt of frustration.

"I need to step out for a moment." Sherlock heard Moriarty say, since he was too busy watching John trying to regain himself. "Mr Cooper, enjoy yourself while I'm gone." With that, Moriarty was gone, out the door and down the hall. "So tell me Austin," Said John, who managed to stop tears from falling down his face, but leaving shiny trails in their wake. "Do you still cry during thunderstorms?" Austin's eyes narrowed, and his hit John very hard in the stomach, and both men knew that anything John would say would only come back on him.

How the hell are they going to get out of this?


	2. Chapter 2

Three hours had passed, John had been beaten into unconsciousness and Austin was gone due to Moriarty giving him a time limit with the duo. Sherlock stared at John's battered body tied to the chair, he wish he could break these stupid ropes! "John… Come on, love. Wake up for me, please." He begged, and cursed when the older man didn't reply and even moved a single muscle to signal to say that he was awake. "John! Please…" The 'please' from Sherlock's mouth came out a small and choked sound, making him sound smaller than what he was. Sherlock sighed; maybe it was a better thing for John to rest after what he had been through. He was breathing, and not in any life-threatening condition due to his wounds.

"I'm sorry…" Sherlock whispered, knowing that John wasn't even awake, but it's not like anything he was about to say he could say to anyone's face. "If you never met me, none of this would have happened to you, my love." He let out a breath. "I apologize, John." He whispered, and he himself could feel a lump rising in the back of this throat, but he attempted to swallow it down. "I would never have let this happen to you if I had a choice." He finished, and that was when the door opened up with a loud bang, still only making John move slightly before being deadly still once again. "Okay, here's the deal, Mr Holmes." Said one of Moriarty's stupid gun-man, who Sherlock could tell was having an affair on his wife, with another man.

"If you make any attempt to escape while I untie your and Mr Watson's bonds, I will not hesitate to put a bullet in his head." He threatened, and Sherlock's mouth went from slightly gaped to press in a hard line. The man moved over to Sherlock, and in one swift movement, cut apart the ropes binding Sherlock's arms and then repeated the same motion to John's arms. John slumped forward, and collapsed to the ground, hitting it hard having no-one to even catch him. Sherlock watched as the man left the room, the door locking behind him before he even attempted to move to his fallen boyfriend.

He discarded his coat, which in all honesty was surprised that he still had on, and wrapped it around John frame. If it wasn't such a dire situation, Sherlock would have chuckled at how small John looked in that large coat of his, and it was quite an adorable sight to see. Sherlock moved him and John, so thee taller male was rested against the wall and John's head rested comfortably on his lap. Sherlock unconsciously carded his fingers through John's short and dirty blond hair. "Oh, John." He sighed. "What have I gotten us into?" He said to no-one but himself, regret clear in his voice and he leaned his head forward and closed his eyes.

"My apologies." He whispered and pressed his lips to John's forehead in a loving manner. "I was an army doctor, Sherlock." John's tired voice said suddenly, signalling that the injured man had awoken and heard what his lover was saying to him. "I've been in much worse." The blonde haired man opened his eyes, looking up at Sherlock, but didn't bother to move from his position. He was comfortable, and his body hurt also, so he really didn't feel like moving much. "Yes, true." Sherlock nodded his head, and then opened his mouth to say something, but John cut him off by saying something quicker.

"This isn't your fault, Sherlock. So don't blame yourself." He began and finally made an attempt to sit up, his boyfriend moved and help him to sit up. He helped John to lean against the wall. "Well, any ideas Mr Genius?" John questioned, and Sherlock just shrugged his shoulders- which to John was such a 'non-Sherlock' thing for the man to do. He had no idea how they were going to get out of this. "You'll think of something, or I will." John laughed. "I probably won't, I can't think of a plan to save my life." Sherlock frowned, and then turned to John. "You're smart John, and you were trained to act of instinct, if I can't think of something surely the ex-soldier in you can." John looked at Sherlock for a second, and then smiled at him.

"That's a first." He laughed, and Sherlock cocked his head to the side. Was now really a time to have a conversation about something other than figuring out a way to escape? "What is?" The curly haired man asked anyway, and John looked away from Sherlock and at his hands. "You said I was smart." He laughed. "I can count a hundred times you've called me an idiot or stupid, but smart?' He said and Sherlock laughed, the male did have a point. But to Sherlock, John was the smartest person he had ever met. "Never." Sherlock shrugged once again. "Well, you are an idiot most the time." John chuckled, and the sound of him doing so it what also caused Sherlock to laugh a little. "John, I do not think now is the time for laughter and joking." He said, and John nodded his head. "No, I suppose not." He said, but a small smile on his face anyway. "When do you think Moriarty will be back?" John said, and he watched as Sherlock looked from him to the only tiny barred window. "Since there is only a little amount of light coming through, I think in the morning." He replied and John nodded his head, he could have guessed that.

Then one of the only sources of light in the room turned off, and John wrapped his arms around his knees, lucky that it didn't cause his body any pain. The only light that they had was from the sunlight outside, which was slowly darkening as the minutes ticked by.

John had a fear of the dark, but it wasn't the type of fear to hit him every time the sun went down. On most night he was perfectly fine, and could deal with it. But not when under distress, and right now wasn't exactly the perfect time, and he knew that Sherlock had no idea about this stupid little fear of his. John had always been embarrassed of this fear, but he was a PTSD like symptom from the war, so he knew that it wasn't his fault. Being in the dark under distress reminded him of when he fought in the war.

Meanwhile Sherlock, who had found a sharp piece of metal on the ground, which he found a little weird that Moriarty wasn't careful, and was hacking and sawing away at the rusted bars, grinning as it began to give way and began to cut apart. "I just hope Moriarty doesn't walk in until sunlight." He whispered to himself, which John only gave a light hum for to signal that he heard and agreed to what he was saying. John closed his eyes and let out a breath, the square hole that the bars were blocking were ground level and that meant that they were being kept under ground, and he knew this street.

It was by his old apartment.

"Sherlock, I know where we are." John said, and to him his voice sounded a little shaky, but he could just say it was due to being hurt and not his fear slowly building up. "Where?" Sherlock questioned, and missed how John was shaking, even in his own jacket and Sherlock's coat, he was shaking in fear as it begin to grow dark. By now, Sherlock had cut away two bars and had five more to go, and that was going to take a while. "My old apartment, before I moved in with you." He replied, and Sherlock hummed and nodded his head, he had wondered why this place felt so familiar to him. "John? You're shaking." Sherlock noted, finally noticing and he knew that it wasn't from the cold, John would be very warm in those two-three- layer of clothes he was covered in.

"Yeah… I just- never mind." John shook his head; he didn't think Sherlock could care about him being afraid of the dark, something so stupid and child-ish. "John." Sherlock pressed, stopping his sawing and looking at John as he moved closer, so the ex-soldier sighed; now Sherlock wouldn't leave him alone until he told him what was wrong. "I have this fear." Sherlock didn't say anything, so John continued on with his explanation. "I don't like the dark. I haven't since the war." He said, and Sherlock smiled a little, but not laughing at the smaller man. "And you were embarresed to tell me because you thought it was stupid?" John nodded his head and Sherlock kneeled on his knees in front of John and pulled the man in for a hug.

"You were in war John, of course you would have a fear like that. And no one would even think of laughing at you for that." Sherlock said, and John sighed and slowly nodded his head, "You are in idiot." Sherlock said, and ran a hand through John's hair before getting up and moving back to the barred window to cut it open. "I'll get us out of here John, I promise." Sherlock whispered, but wasn't loud enough for John to hear him.

"Sherlock! Go, go, go!" John said jumping to his feet as Sherlock finally managed to cut the one last bar, and it took everything in him not to yell in triumph. He stood on John's hands, which had been crossed over, and pushed himself up and through the bar. It was a tight squeeze, and it took Sherlock a few mnutes to get through, but by the time he door the door had slammed open and Moriarty stood in the door way.

"Sherlock, go!" John yelled as Moriarty yelled for his gunman to go around and capture Sherlock once again, Sherlock was still unsure whether he wanted to leave John here, what would Moriarty do to him here alone? But the look on John's face made it clear to Sherlock that John wasn't giving him a choice.

So he ran.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry these chapters are becoming boring, but I'm trying to think of ways this could actually be interesting. Thanks to everyone who is following or has Favorited this story. And please don't forget to reveiw, it makes me happy and motivated. Cheers. **

Sherlock knew that trying to return back to where Moriarty had kept both him and John would be pointless; the consulting criminal would have moved location to save being caught by the police. He found him just following wherever his feet carried him, and before he knew it he was back at Baker Street, standing in front of the door that said '221B'. He used his sleeve to wipe any sweat that he had gained as he ran. The longer he stood outside the door, the darker he noticed it began to grow, and that was from the grey clouds covering the morning sky.

He began to feel drops of water hit his head and then it began to fall down poring with rain. He pulled out the key that had been left in his pocket with shaking hands, and then unlocked the door with much trouble. His hands couldn't seem to stop trembling, so he just chalked it up to being cold when honestly it was because he was afraid of what would happen to John all alone with Moriarty. "Sherlock?" A frail voice called out and the taller male stopped and looked in Mrs Hudson's room of the flat, where she was now looking at him with a worried look in her eyes. "Where on earth have you been?" She asked. "And where is John? Didn't he leave with you yesterday?" He questions just kept coming, and for once Sherlock couldn't say anything. He opened his mouth to reply to her questions, but nothing came out.

"I…" He whispered, and Mrs Hudson moved forward with a large coat in her hands to wrap around Sherlock, who happily helped to wrap it around his body. "You're soaked to the bone, dear." Sherlock frowned his brows together, what the hell was he standing around and doing nothing for? John was in the hands of his biggest enemy, and he was here getting warmed up? "Sorry, I do have to go." Sherlock said, putting his arms in the arms of the coat Mrs Hudson had handed him, and within a second made his way back out the front door. Walking straight back into the freezing rain and cold wind.

He had to get to Mycroft; he was one person who could help him get John back.

He hailed the first taxi he saw, and with money he grabbed before leaving, and told the man that he got to where he wanted to go he would pay him a huge tip. But, of course he wouldn't pay the tip now, he had been sitting in a Taxi for almost twenty minutes when Mycroft's living area was only twenty five minutes away, and that was by walking. Once the cab stopped in front of Sherlock's destination he threw all the money he had at the cabbie and jumped out of the car and ran those five feet from the curb to the front door.

Sherlock didn't even bother to knock on the door; he just opened the door and let it slam shut behind him. "Mycroft!" He yelled out, and he was met with the echo of his own voice. "Mycroft, dammit, where the hell are you?!" He yelled out once again, and was angered when the older male didn't answer back, and he damn well that the older of the two bothers could hear him from any room in this large house. "Mycrof-"The consulting detective was cut off when another voice rang out from behind him, annoyance clear in the voice. "Yes, brother mine?" Sherlock turned around and was finally met with the face of his brother, Mycroft, who had his arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face.

"I need your help." He blurted out, and if the situation had been different, he would have laughed at the sudden look of shock on his brother's face. "Oh, _you _finally need help from _me_?" Mycroft said, amusement now written all over his face. "Should I be honoured?" Sherlock shot his brother a look that clearly stated that he didn't have the time for this right now. "I don't have time for your games, Mycroft!" The youngest Holmes brother yelled, and that was when Mycroft finally realised something was wrong with Sherlock.

"Moriarty has John, and I need help." Mycroft was silent so Sherlock sighed and looked away from his brother and at the ground. "Please, Mycroft, please." Mycroft let down his tough guard and made his way the steps to where his brother was standing. "Tell me what happened and I'll do everything I can." He said, and Sherlock looked up, surprise clear in his eyes as he began to explain to his brother everything that had happened over the last two days.

John woke up with a pounding in his head, and he found himself surrounded by darkness. He tried rubbing his eyes and then opening them again, but no he was actually stuck in a pitch black room. He got to his feet and found that he wasn't once again tied up. He moved his arms so they were out in front of him and made his way forward until he hit a wall, he moved his hands around looking for some type of door or window.

He moved from one wall to another until his hands hit a door knob, and already knowing it was useless, tried to twist it to open it. But no, it was locked. He bunched up his fists and banged on the door, yelling out as if, by chance, someone would hear him. "Hello?! Anyone?!" He screamed, but the only sound he could hear was the sound of water dripping from the outside of the room. That was going to drive him insane later on, if someone didn't come to get him that is.

He moved away from what he guessed was a door, and slid down against the wall and curled in on himself, his fear beginning to finally set in. He was trapped. And in the dark.

John felt his breathing beginning to speed up, and his heart rate begin to race. He squeezed his eyes shut and began to focus on his breathing, trying to keep it even. It wasn't working and he felt a lump rise in his throat, and he swallowed it down, and tried to keep tears that were beginning to make their way up to his closed eyes. "You're fine, you're fine, you're fine…" John whispered to himself, and tried to keep repeating it and his fear just continued to grow. He let out a chocked sob, and then he found himself on all fours, throwing up anything that was in his nearly empty stomach. He found himself being lightheaded and then limply fell to his side.

On the ground, silence began scary and he closed his eyes thinking that if he kept them open he could see something in the darkness. Was he going to die here? Alone? And leaving Sherlock in a place that hated him for his own intelligence. He just was happy that he let Sherlock get away, who knew what would happen to them if he hadn't gotten away. John briefly wondered if Sherlock would use that great mind of his to find him.

"Sherlock, love, I'm sorry." He whispered before blacking out, the scent of vomit being the last thing he smelt and darkness the last thing he knew.


End file.
